I Had A Date, and Other Stories
by WitchyDoctor
Summary: Steve had a date in the past, Pepper had one in the present, but neither worked out the way they were supposed to. The pair share a friendly moment that could cross over into something more if they let it. Originally a one-shot, but some people expressed an interest in seeing more of these two. - In Progress
1. I Had a Date

**Author Note:** This was originally a one-shot, from a nugget that got into my head on Memorial Day. After finishing it and getting some positive feedback, I decided to revisit Pepper and Steve. The original story is now Chapter 1. (_Updated 07/13/2012_)

**Music Note:** The songs mentioned in this story can be found on YouTube. Search for "Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy - The Andrews Sisters (1941)" and "Glenn Miller & His Orchestra - Moonlight Serenade".

* * *

The future was far too noisy for Steve Rogers. Also, in his opinion, so-called 'modern' women didn't wear nearly enough clothes...

He was well-aware that others made fun of his old-fashioned manners and the way he didn't 'get' much of their slang and cultural touchstones, but he didn't really mind. Most of the time, the ribbing wasn't maliciously intended. He was a curiosity, a miracle, a relic. Truthfully, his manners _were _old-fashioned, and at the moment he was disinclined to change them.

There were certainly good things about the twenty-first century, he could admit that. Medicine was more advanced. People didn't die so often from fevers and infections, and battlefield medicine saved many more lives than in his day. Regular people also had access to much more information, right at their fingertips, although his own tentative forays onto the internet had taught him that it could be difficult to separate fact from fiction. Phones were tiny and allowed people to talk to one another anywhere, but the problem with that was that they talked to one another _everywhere_, with no consideration for where they were or who might be forced to listen to their most intimate business. Ideas like privacy and discretion seemed as if they were as old-fashioned as he himself.

Women were another aspect of of the new millenium that he found disconcerting. Okay, _fine_... he'd also found women disconcerting in his own time, but in a different way. The women he met out in public now were bold and aggressive, more likely to scorn him than thank him for holding a door for them. The female S.H.I.E.L.D. agents he saw often, like Natasha Romanoff, were in a class all by themselves. He didn't object to strength and outspokenness, or a woman using her intelligence. Peggy Carter had possessed those qualities in abundance. Hell, she'd fired a pistol at him once in the heat of a misunderstanding, although as he recalled it, her expression had been ice-cold. He missed the little details: the way women of his time smelled, their hairstyles, the cut of their skirts and the way they'd walked in them. What lay under their clothes had been a mystery to be uncovered, not a buffet laid out for mass consumption. Those were what he missed.

These reflections had come upon him as he watched the commercials interspersed in the televised baseball coverage he'd been trying to watch. Even baseball was different now, players wearing long pants and seeming to care more about swagger than teamwork. In many ways, that was more sad for him than the decline of the pencil skirt. Once the game was over, he'd meandered into the kitchen. Though he'd considered getting his own apartment, for the time being he'd accepted Tony Stark's invitation to stay in his large penthouse apartment in Stark Tower. The man had a way of getting under his skin, but Steve had balanced that against being alone. He suspected the invitation might have been partly Fury's doing, a way to keep tabs on him without making him feel locked up. Bruce Banner was also staying with them, which meant he didn't see much of Tony anyway. The two were working on several projects related to the tesseract and wormholes and talk-talk science jargon. That was not Steve's forte, so he stayed out of their way.

Standing at the stainless Viking stove in Stark's spacious gourmet kitchen, he slid a spatula beneath the omelette he was cooking and deftly flipped it over. He was no chef, but he could make a small selection of simple meals that tasted good to him. The aroma of butter, onions, and eggs was comfortable, even homey. Beyond that, on a more practical level, his enhanced metabolism demanded more fuel than an ordinary man and he hated to make someone cook for him all the time.

"That smells good," a voice said.

He turned to see Pepper Potts walking into the kitchen, dressed in an emerald satin evening gown and high heels, her red-gold hair falling loosely to her partially-bare shoulders, the soft waves framing her face.

"It's just a cheese omelette, ma'am," he said, turning back to the stove once he realized he'd been staring at her. "Would you like some? I can fix myself another."

Pepper hesitated for a moment, then said, "I don't want to make more work for you."

It was the polite thing to do, even though her stomach was growling. She hadn't been exaggerating about the smell. It made her mouth water, especially since she'd skipped lunch today in anticipation of a big night out. That had gone awry, leaving her literally all dressed up with no place to go. The purpose of her visit to the kitchen had been to grab a quick snack for the road before summoning Happy with the limo to drive her to the apartment provided by Stark Industries. She rarely stayed there these days, but tonight seemed like a good time for a retreat and regroup.

"It's no trouble, and I couldn't eat in front of you," Steve countered. "Wouldn't be right."

Pepper knew that, when dealing with a man like Steve Rogers, turning him down again was probably ruder than accepting. At least, that's what she rationalized as she slid onto one of the high stools at the breakfast bar near the stove. She gathered her skirt carefully as she claimed her perch, taking care not to scuff her red-soled Louboutins as she settled her feet firmly on the stool's low crossbar.

"Thank you, Captain Rogers. I accept."

"Steve," he countered as he plated the omelette and set it before her. He'd already gotten out a napkin and silverware, so all he had to do was slide it over to her. "Orange juice or coffee?"

"Oh, orange juice," Pepper replied. "I'll never get to sleep if I have coffee this late."

She watched him as he moved toward the refrigerator to get the orange juice, along with eggs, cheese, and butter. He was wearing khaki pants and a pale-blue polo shirt that strained a bit across the breadth of his shoulders and girth of his upper arms. When he turned around, she noticed that the shirt was the same color as his eyes, though she doubted that was on purpose.

Picking up her fork, she used the edge of the tines to cut off a piece of omelette and lifted it to her mouth. "Mmm," she said as she chewed. "This is wonderful."

Steve gave a little smile as he put two pieces of bread in the toaster. "You're welcome, ma'am."

"Pepper," she said, echoing his own earlier statement.

"Yes, ma'am-"

He caught himself and shook his head with a rueful smile, then busied himself with breaking eggs into a bowl. "Pepper."

She couldn't answer right away, because she was too busy shoveling in another forkful of food, or trying hard _not _to shovel it. Neither spoke for a while, but the silence felt companionable rather than awkward. When the toast popped up, perfectly browned, Steve put it on a smaller plate and gave it to Pepper as well, making sure the butter was within her reach.

"Are you and Tony going out tonight?" he asked once he'd flipped the second omelette onto a plate. "I don't mean to pry, but your dress doesn't look like business-wear."

Pepper made a little huffing noise into her orange juice and answered, "We were supposed to go to dinner and a show, but Tony is too busy consummating his bromance with Dr. Banner in the accelerator lab to be bothered with something as mundane as Broadway."

When she started to explain the meaning of the term _bromance_, Steve held up a hand to stop her. "I know that one. It was in one of the newspaper articles about us. The team, I mean."

Pepper's meal was gone. Only a few mangled toast-crusts were left on her plate. She wiped her mouth and slid off the stool, crossing to a computer built into the wall. Tony and the others had been the subjects of extensive media coverage, as one would expect. Even S.H.I.E.L.D didn't have the power to cover up something like that completely, though they had kept some members of the team out of the public eye better than others. Tony and Steve had become the poster boys, Tony because he was already a media darling, and Steve because he gave off a handsome, squeaky-clean vibe. She'd seen posters of Thor on sale, too, though he was well out of the each of the paparazzi at the moment.

"Did anyone show you how to work the music?" she asked.

"Yes, but there's so much, and I don't know any of the new songs," Steve explained. "Too many sound the same, and it's just... loud. Like that band Tony likes. Black Sabbath?"

In that case, even the name disturbed him a little. Apparently, believing in God was outdated, too. He glanced up and watched Pepper fiddle with the computer. Then he took a deep breath, boldly venturing, "With all due respect, a man would have to be an idiot to stand up a classy woman like you, unless it's the end of the world. Even then, he ought to think hard about it."

She paused briefly but didn't turn, struck by his words. For years she'd been in love with Tony Stark, the good and the bad. She'd told herself it was just the way he was wired, and that he was worth it, but then there were times like tonight that made her angry. Her fingers finished punching in her selections, and she hit the play button. A jazzy trumpet riff filled the kitchen, and she was rewarded by a large smile spreading across Steve's face.

"Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy," he said, his voice a mix of wonder and pleasure.

"I can make you a playlist if you want, that way you just have to hit a couple buttons. We can pick out some things later," Pepper offered. Hell, she wasn't going anywhere, she might as well help him, right?

Steve nodded, still smiling, though there was a thread of sadness twining its way through his belly. The music brought back memories, things that were hard to think about, knowing they could never be more than fading images in his mind. Pepper sat back down at the counter and he took the stool next to her, food in front of him.

"I had a date..." he said. At Pepper's questioning look, he added, "When the plane went down. Before I disappeared. I asked a girl I liked to go out with me. Dancing. Had to stand her up..."

He took a bite of his omelette, chewing mechanically. She watched him, curiosity only partly satisfied. On the surface he'd seemed like the simplest one among the whole odd menagerie of heroes, but that seemed like it might not be true.

"I'm sure she understood. Those were tough times," Pepper replied, shifting to face him more directly. A second later she wanted to kick herself for how utterly lame it sounded: _those were tough times_. Ugh.

"Could have been the end of the world," he murmured. "Thought about it really hard, though."

The chirpy harmonies of the Andrews Sisters gave way to the smooth swing of Glenn Miller. In an impulsive gesture, Pepper slid off her stool and held out her hand. "May I have this dance?"

"I don't really know how to dance. She was going to show me," Steve said.

Pepper smiled. "It's not that hard. I'm sure you can get it in no time."

"Yes ma'am- Pepper," he said, standing up to join her.

She placed his right hand on the small of her back and he clasped the other hand with his left. At first he almost stepped on her toe, but the rhythm was familiar, and soon enough they were moving together across the tile floor. She smelled good, he noticed. Something flowery, with a hint of something spicy, too. His fingers spread out, his palm settling into the dip of her spine. The material of the dress was soft under his fingertips.

"See..." Pepper said, looking up at him. Her eyes had been on their feet first, then on his broad chest. When they met his, blue and intense, she felt her mouth go dry and her stomach flutter. "You're a natural."

It fell quiet between them again as they continued to dance, the strains of _Moonlight Serenade _coming to their conclusion. Neither could say who initiated it, but when Pepper tilted her face up again at the end of the song, their mouths met in a soft, lingering kiss. Then Steve pulled back and stepped away, leaving only the memory of his warmth against her palm, at the small of her back, and on her lips.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"I'm not," she said.

Walking over to the counter, Pepper picked up her small clutch purse, curling it in one hand against her body. "I'm going home, but I'll see you tomorrow about setting up that playlist."

Steven nodded, wanting to be reassured by her nonchalance, but feeling like a cad. Regardless of what he thought of Tony, he had _no_ right to step in like that. Later, however, he would see it a bit differently, and he went to sleep thinking of a redhead rather than a brunette for the first time in weeks...


	2. Only Fools Rush In

**Timeline Note:** This story takes place about two weeks after "I Had a Date".

**Music Note:** Search for "Elvis Presley - Can't Help Falling In Love (SLOW)" on YouTube.

* * *

Steve and Pepper sat on the floor of the media room in Stark Tower, the carpeted floor around them strewn with albums and 45s, the colorful cardboard covers making a kind of historical musical mosaic. There were more records sitting in two crates nearby. They had spent most of the previous day prowling vintage-vinyl record stores around New York City, splurging on not only recordings from Steve's era, but also on a varied selection of other classic albums that Pepper thought he ought to listen to. They were mostly fifties and sixties, something to edge him a little closer to the 21st century before he had to tackle disco, hair metal, or rap. For his part, Steve was willing to at least try what she recommended. He had enjoyed their day very much. Pepper was funny and smart, and she seemed to have so much information right at her fingertips, even without using her little telephone to look things up on the internet. He also had to admire her confidence. It was... well, the word someone would use now was _sexy_. Even thinking that word made him feel disrespectful, especially since she'd never made fun of his anachronisms or misunderstanding of modern references. Several times she'd matter-of-factly explained things to him, clarifying or correcting, but never in a way that made him feel awkward. _Not like certain other people_...

Tony's super-expensive, gadget-laden stereo system included a high-end turntable, despite the fact that he didn't own any records. Pepper would have bought one if that hadn't been the case, but it had saved her some research. She'd put in a bid on eBay for an old-school portable record player for Steve's room. He had spoken fondly of the one he'd had as a teenager while they'd been cruising the stores, so she'd search for a similar one last when they'd gotten home. She couldn't wait to see his face when it arrived. Looking around herself at the selection, Pepper selected and handed Steve an album. He carefully slipped the disk out of its protective paper sleeve and placed it over the metal spindle, then set the needle expertly into the outer groove. A soft crackle and hiss came from the speakers before the first song began. Once it started, he flipped the cover over and studied it closely.

"Blue Hawaii?" he asked, glancing up at Pepper.

"Yes," she nodded, smiling. Her red hair was pulled back in a casual ponytail, a couple strands curling loosely around her face, and she had on denim capris with a plain white button-down shirt. Sitting cross-legged as she was, her bare feet with their pink-painted toenails peeked out from under her legs. Steve had to work hard not to stare, thinking she looked even prettier than she had in her evening-wear. He jumped a bit when she reached out out and took the album cover from him to look at the list of songs, running her finger lightly down the scuffed printing. "My mother loved the movie. She played the record all the time when I was a kid."

"So, this..." Steve tilted his head to read the cover. "Uhm, Elvis... he was an actor?"

At first Pepper shook her head, but then her eyebrows furrowed slightly as she thought more about her answer. "He was a singer first. They put him in a bunch of movies because he was so popular, but I'm not sure he was really an _actor_, if you know what I mean."

Steve gave a wry smile and nodded. He definitely understood being shoved on stage to play a part, whether you were good at it or not. Whether you _liked _it or not. _Every bond you buy is a bullet in the barrel of your best guy's gun._ Others, like Tony Stark, were natural performers. They seemed to come alive in front of an audience, large or small. You didn't have to act when you were just being yourself, when that's what people wanted to see. That was one of the few things for which he envied Tony, though it certainly wasn't the biggest.

"You know, I had no idea what or where Hawaii was until the Japs attacked Pearl Harbor," he confessed. "I don't think anyone in my neighborhood in Brooklyn did. It's a state now, right?"

From the surround-sound speakers, Elvis's voice sang sweetly about blue Hawaii and dreams coming true under the moon. Pepper's smile didn't disappear, but it turned smaller and softer, becoming just the hint of a curl at both corners of her mouth. She didn't point out that "Japs" would be considered offensive now. She doubted that Steve would be saying it again outside the confines of Stark Tower, so there didn't seem to be a reason to hurt his feelings. There was a beating, vulnerable heart inside the super-soldier body, something people seemed to forget far too often.

"Yes, it is. They admitted it after the war. Sometime in the fifties, I think. There's a memorial at Pearl Harbor now, too. If you ever want to go, we could take the Stark jet."

"Thanks. I appreciate that."

He'd watched a Pearl Harbor documentary on The History Channel not too long ago. Hearing President Roosevelt's voice intoning "a date which will live in infamy" had brought back the impact of the moment as if it were yesterday, which in many ways it seemed like to him. Every second of that day, of hearing that announcement, was locked in his memory. He didn't know if he could stand over the graves of the sailors who were still entombed in the sunken _Arizona_. Did that make him a coward, he had to wonder? Unlike him, they would never be pulled from their watery graves. His thoughts also went to Bucky and his empty grave in a plot next to his parents in Brooklyn, then to all the men and women he'd known who were dead and gone-

"Steve?"

Pepper's voice was worried. She'd seen his eyes go far away. What did they call it? A thousand yard stare? Maybe the music had been a bad idea. He'd seemed to like hearing it that night in the kitchen, and he'd been eager on their shopping expedition, but she knew from experience that songs could turn out to be unexpectedly powerful. Instinctively she reached out, putting her hand over one of his, and his eyes snapped back to meet hers.

"I'm sorry. It's not you. I do appreciate your offer, and the music. Everything. Especially since you have a whole company to run, which is certainly more important than babysitting me..."

He was very conscious of the warmth of her touch, recalling with perfect clarity the sweet and unexpected feeling of her lips against his. They hadn't discussed The Kiss, not so much as a word - and yes, the event had assumed capital-letter significance in his mind. He'd taken his cues from Pepper's cool departure that night and her subsequent silence on the matter. Now it occurred to him that perhaps, as the man, he ought to speak up first to clear the air.

"Pepper-"

She had seen Steve's intake of breath, following the glint of some new resolution in his eyes. Sometimes she found herself getting caught up in them. They were blue and clear, deep with sadness or bright with pleasure, but always alive. She'd felt him watching her now and again and pretended not to notice. Over the years she'd done that with quite a few men while she'd been waiting for the one man she _wanted _to notice her to look - _really _look. Even now, there were times when Tony seemed to be looking through her rather than at her, too lost in his own personal world of high-speed ideas to share. Even making her the CEO of Stark Enterprises was, in some ways, just an upgraded form of the babysitting she'd done as his assistant. The perks were admittedly sweeter in the big office, but sometimes they weren't enough to counter the tastes of bitterness.

"The company can get along fine without me for a day or two," she interrupted, slipping her hand back into her lap and lacing her fingers together. "And I don't consider it babysitting, not at all. I had fun yesterday. It was good to get out."

Steve felt his resolve slipping. The day he'd spent in her company meant more to him than he could put into words. If he insisted on bringing up what had happened between them, then he might lose even the small bit of her that he could honorably claim. He looked forward to those fleeting moments; yesterday had been a feast, and today was dessert. Behind them, in the silence between them, Elvis was still singing like some kind of musical sage.

"_Wise men say, only fools rush in..."_

"Damn, it looks like American Bandstand puked all over my fun-time room."

Two heads turned sharply to see Tony strutting into the room, dressed in well-worn jeans and a black concert t-shirt pulled over a gray Henley. He stopped just short of the strewn island of albums and bent over to pick one up at random, making a wrinkled HUH-face as he looked at it and took a sip of the Scotch in his hand.

Pepper glanced over at Steve and rose to her feet, stepping lightly out of the circle to Tony's side and tugging the album from his hands. "Really? And here I thought your fun-time room was downstairs with Bruce," she retorted, her face looking something less than playful.

Steve had gotten to his feet as well, feeling suddenly awkward - _more _awkward - in the tension between Tony and Pepper. He reached over and lifted the needle from the record, rather less smoothly than he had placed it, making a small scratch-brrrp noise before the room fell quiet.

"Wow, _Stevie_. At this rate, we'll have you up to eight-tracks in no time," Tony said. There was a weird vibe he couldn't place, even as he slipped an arm around Pepper's waist to pull her in for a kiss. She turned her cheek up to him, her back stiff. How had he gotten in trouble when he hadn't even been here? Tony didn't like not knowing things. Not knowing things made him very uncomfortable, and when he was uncomfortable he was even more Tony-ish than usual.

"So how much of a nosedive has my company's stock taken while you're busy Casey Kasem-ing for Captain Spangly-pants?" he quipped, noticing Pepper's bare feet for the first time. Casually (or seemingly so) he tilted his glass back and drained the contents, the ice clinking back to the bottom as he crossed toward the wet bar at the side of the room for a refill.

"As compared to when you were theoretically in charge?" Pepper answered, feeling agitated. It wasn't the first time he'd "teased" her in front of someone else, but that was getting to be a bit old. He'd irrevocably made her president and CEO, but that didn't mean she couldn't quit. She had no plans to do that, but neither should he take her for granted - though he did, and always had. His breath when he'd kissed her had carried the sweet smell and hot bite of alcohol. How much had he consumed already? In the old days she wouldn't have had to wonder, since she'd have been in charge of replenishing the supply.

Over his shoulder, Tony smirked. "Sitting on the floor got your Victoria's Secrets in a bunch?"

"You need to apologize, Stark," Steve interjected, the words coming out before he could think about the consequences or the fact that he was getting into the midst of a lover's quarrel.

"To whom, you?" Tony retorted with a little snort. "Got your red, white, and blue panties in a wad, too? Pfft, what am I saying? You're a tighty-whitey guy all the way, I bet. Unless of course you have a thong-tastic secret, which I _don't _want to know about."

Tony gave an exaggerated full-body shudder accompanied by an expression of mock-horror as he dumped out the ice in his glass and put in new cubes from a small refrigerator. Each of them making a distinctive "tink" as they landed.

"To Pepper."

Steve spit out the words through tight jaws and started toward Tony, stopping in a moment of uncertainty after a couple strides when Pepper shifted her stance to subtly put herself between the two men. She had both arms around the album she'd taken away from Tony and she held up against her chest.

"No, it's okay," she started to say, not because she didn't _want _an apology, but because there was far too much potential for escalation. The tower hadn't even been fully repaired from the last assault yet.

"I said to apologize," Steve repeated, ignoring Pepper's refusal. His voice, well-used to command, was deep and authoritative. Then he resumed his progress toward Tony, altering his path around Pepper.

Downing a large swallow of his just-refreshed drink, Tony carefully put the glass on the bar and strode to meet Steve, his walk cocky compared to the other man's measured strides. They met halfway, stopping almost toe to toe and chest to chest, staring into each other's faces with almost-matching expressions of too-stubborn belligerence. Pepper might have laughed if she wasn't so angry herself.

"I know it's been a long time since you were in grade school, but let's see if this one strikes a chord in that freezer-burned brain of yours: nyah-nyah-nyah, you're not the boss of me," Tony snarked.

"I don't have to be the boss to school you in manners. I just have to be the better man," Steve countered.

"Oh good God, just kiss already and be done with it!" Pepper said. They were twanging her last nerves with their posturing. At this point it wasn't about her feelings; it was about their own egos. With a frustrated noise she dropped the album she was holding on a nearby chair and snatched up her purse and shoes. Pulling out her cell phone, she punched the speed dial for Happy as she stalked out of the room.

Two heads swiveled sharply, two mouths came open, and two pairs of eyes followed Pepper. When they turned to look at one another again, Steve and Tony each hopped back about a foot to put some space between them, her words burning in their ears. Tony turned and ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it into an even wilder mess than it already was. Steve looked down at his toes, his hands shoved in his pockets, ears growing hot.

"Go after her," Steve said. Unspoken were the words, "Or I will."

There were a couple seconds' of hesitation in which Tony's desire to calm Pepper down warred with his inherent unwillingness to do anything Steve told him to do, he moved. After two or three steps he broke into a quick jog, hot on Pepper's trail. Steve heard him call to her, feeling a clenching in his own chest; then he was left alone to clean up the mess...


End file.
